Extreme weather in South Australia

Floods, cyclones and drought are just the latest in a series of extreme weather conditions that has hit Australia over the past few months. The impact, especially of drought, is huge. Rivers are drying up, bush fires are damaging farmland and crops are failing; the whole fragile ecosystem is under threat. From his home in the parched state of South Australia, Terence Hewton explains that the signs of a 'water catastrophe' are becoming visible everywhere

Drought-hit farmland in South Australia, as seen through an aircraft window. Photograph: David Gray/Reuters

Terence Hewton

Monday 30 June 2008 04.00 EDT
First published on Monday 30 June 2008 04.00 EDT

Early this summer, while I was drinking coffee at Henley Beach in Adelaide, I saw smoke coming from down the shoreline. It was from a bush fire on Kangaroo Island, which is situated at the mouth of the Gulf of St Vincent.

It was an especially bad fire. Firefighters were brought in from interstate and there was talk of calling out the troops if it got bad enough. A young man was caught by the flames in his truck and died. The economic mainstays of Kangaroo Island are farming and tourism, but much of its acreage is now burnt.

I could still smell the smoke the following morning as I walked through the city centre. By then the smoke coming from the island was being joined by that from smaller bush fires in the Mount Lofty Ranges, the ridge of hills that borders the city on its eastern side.

At around the same time, in Edithburgh, a seaside town across the Gulf from the city, my cousin's farm came close to being wiped out by a bush fire. He was first alerted to the danger when a neighbour saw smoke and phoned him. Shortly afterwards, as many as 30 local volunteer firefighters were heading down his drive in their vehicles towards the fire. They managed to save both the house and a cereal crop.

It's a fragile rural economy in this area – as it is across the whole nation. The margin for major bush-fire loss simply isn't there. The Edithburgh fire could have been worse: if the wind had been blowing towards the sea, the whole town could have been lost.

The big problem for us down here is, of course, the drought. Apart from the fire risk, there is insufficient water for domestic and agricultural use, and everyone is feeling the pinch. The Murray-Darling river system in the southeast of the continent is drying up and becoming too salty for domestic or agricultural use.

The signs of water catastrophe are everywhere. We are undergoing water rationing and, with it, a strong sense of civic responsibility in observing it. There has been favourable talk of even harsher restrictions and, on the other side, concern about Australia turning into a police state.

It's a contentious issue. There has already been a water-related homicide. A passerby set upon someone he believed to be watering his garden in violation of the water restrictions. And upstream from Adelaide, in Riverland, fruit growers are complaining that their water rations are insufficient and sending them broke as a consequence.

They have been taking to the streets in protest. Last November about 50 fruit growers gathered on the steps of the South Australian state parliament. They said that the rationing was turning their locality into a "dust bowl" and destroying their livelihood.

It's not all drought down here, though. The bizarre new weather patterns can be troubling in other ways. Last summer (in January) my wife and I were caught while out driving in a severe tropical downpour. The windscreen wipers couldn't keep up and we had to pull over. At that time of year it is normally dry as a bone.

My cousins have long farmed in that area. Their rainfall records show that the downpour occurred in the second-driest month of the year, in the third-driest year of a 47-year period.

Right now, as torrential rain and flooding wreak havoc in the nation's northeast, the dry heat wave in Adelaide continues. It has buckled the railway lines and confused the local flora and fauna. The vegetation is flowering and bearing fruit at odd times, we are besieged by colourful country parrots gorging themselves on suburban fruit (desperate for moisture), and we are all on alert for venomous snakes that, during the times of normal weather patterns, did not appear in our backyards.